


Good Whiskey

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 05:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18986506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Life in Danger Trope- Gibbs, a bomb, and Jack's need to know.





	Good Whiskey

**Author's Note:**

> I wondered what Grace might have said to Jack in their therapy session in "Lost Time", so I gave it a shot. Simple "life in danger/feelings revealed" trope, but I'm finding I'm having a lot of fun trying to make them work with Gibbs and Jack. I hope you're having fun reading them! (Please note: All bomb-related things in this fic are made up. I just tried to make them convincing! 'EDU' is Explosive Device Unit. That part is true.)

He knew the sound immediately. In the same way he could identify the pop of an M14 or the rumble of a LAV-25, the pressure spring under his foot had a distinctive ‘crack’ that flooded his brain with detail. He pushed it out of the way to get to the most important information-

“Stop!” he barked, firm and loud.

Both Tim and Ellie instantly froze, though Nick- his intent too focused on finding evidence in the maze of the tree-lined backyard- continued wandering, head down and eyes searching.

“Torres!”

There was something in the tone that made Nick’s head snap up and Tim’s ears pin back. He had only ever heard that tone a handful of times, and it was only ever used against suspects and in the case of imminent danger.

“Boss?” he asked, his voice quiet with dread.

Gibbs was thankful for the calm disposition of McGee; it would make what he was about to say go much smoother.

“The three of you need to leave. Retrace your steps _exactly_ the way you came into the area. Say it back to me.”

Swallowing hard, Tim repeated, “Retrace our steps exactly the way we came into the area.”

Ellie frowned. “Gibbs?”

“Just do it, Bishop,” he said. “An’ call the bomb squad.”

…..

Her hands squeezed the steering wheel so tightly they began to cramp, but she took no notice as she twisted the car through the city, then let out the engine in the sparse traffic that led her into the outskirts. She should have gotten someone to drive her to the location, but anyone who would have forgiven her for her state of mind were already there. With him. 

_“I can’t talk to my daughter at all. Can’t open up to my friends. And the one person that I want to open up to the most I’m not sure they feel the same way I do, so…”_

_“‘Feel the same way’. As in…”_

_“You sure you don’t want to grab that drink?”_

_“No, I have a feeling this is something that needs to be said without the liquid courage.”_

_She had simply nodded at Grace’s words, knowing them to be nothing but honest. Sitting back against the couch, Jack looked at the door, though her inner gaze went past the confines of her office to a busy but neat desk downstairs._

_"I think I'm in love with him."_

_"You surprised yourself by saying it out loud."_

_"Yeah."_

_"Okay. So, is he married? Gay? Otherwise unavailable or unattainable?" When Jack shook her head, Grace nodded. "How many relationships have you had since Afghanistan?"_

_Jack shrugged at the apparent shift in topic. "I've been with a few men."_

_"That's not what I asked."_

_"I know what you're getting at. You think I'm worried subconsciously that what happened to me will make him reject me."_

_"Well, are you? Worried?"_

_"No, he knows. I've told him. Hell, he's seen them, and that's more than I can say for the few men I've been with."_

_Grace quietly filed away the reveal she was sure Jack didn't even realize she had let slip. At her confession, Grace had already had her suspicions, and Jack's admission that he knew confirmed it could only be one of two men. When she said she told him, there could only be one name that fit the parameters. Leon Vance would already know. And there was only one man she could imagine Jack would tell her deepest secret._

_"So what makes you think he doesn't return your feelings?" Grace asked, deftly keeping her discovery to herself. "He already knows about the one thing that you would likely perceive to be an obstacle."_

_She rubbed her forehead, hating this part of the sessions, the part where she had to admit she might be being a bit of a coward. She wasn't quite ready for it. Grace let the hesitation linger, giving Jack time to let it ruminate, then shrugged._

_"You're intelligent, independent, ridiculously beautiful." She let the adjective stretch out, knowing it would get a laugh. "I should hate you, but your Mojitos are out of this world." That got another laugh. "So what's the problem, Jack?"_

_She took in a deep breath and exhaled, still unwilling to let his name slip passed her lips. The name that would explain it all. Instead, she went for the easy cliché._

_"It's… complicated."_

_Grace, of course, was having none of it. She wouldn't be a very good therapist if she did. Besides, she had just dealt with the man not 30 minutes ago. Without belittling her dilemma, dealing with Jack was a walk in the park in comparison. As was the trade of any good therapist, Grace turned the answer around._

_"Is it?"_

_….._

"Yes, it is!" Jack gritted, two days later behind the wheel of her car on the way to a bomb situation. 

A goddamn bomb situation. With Leroy Jethro goddamn Gibbs right in the middle of it. 

_On top of it, actually,_ her inner voice corrected.

"Shut up," she said aloud. To her car, which was doing everything she could expect of it but fly, she demanded, "Go faster!"

…..

By the time she got to the location, she had pulled herself together enough to get past the guards set up on the perimeter, under the strict orders to stay within the green flags that marked where the bomb squad had already cleared. She knew it was a meticulous job, having to sweep every inch methodically and thoroughly, but it did nothing for her frazzled nerves to see they had barely gotten near him.

Shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun, she saw 'the kids', the trio of his most trusted agents, huddling on the far left of the wooded clearance. Tim raised a hand half heartedly that she didn't return. Maybe later, she'd consider her lack of response rude- he was probably looking for some kind of reassurance from her- but right now, her consideration only went to the man standing alone in the middle of a scattering of trees that stood guard with him.

She had hoped to get her own reassurances, but looking at him didn't calm her the way it normally did. Yet it didn't bring back the helpless, confused feelings she had in the car, either. She was surprised to find she was angry. Actual seething anger.

She was no stranger to seeing what weapons of war could do to a person. She had seen people shot, maimed, and yes, blown up. She didn't have the advantage of being a civilian who could only vaguely imagine the possible outcomes, where even the most vivid of imaginations couldn't comprehend what it was like to see a life taken away before their eyes. She had seen smiling men gone in the blink of an eye. She had been the second-last person out of an ambushed foxhole, where the last word she had heard from a friend was, “Go.”

And yet, the man who had seen just as much- hell, likely much, much more- just… _stood there_. Like a shift in weight one way or the other wouldn’t take off his legs. At best. Where a cough or cramp might not be the last thing he ever did. The stoicism, normally a comfort, was suddenly a burr under her saddle. She would never expect him to show the emotion she had unleashed in the car, but she expected something. Some indication of uncertainty, of staring into a possible finality, but she suspected he’d shrug at the circumstances and their potential outcome if he didn’t think it might set off the bomb. 

“You’re too close, Jack.”

He had the audacity to greet her with a dry scold.

She was so taken aback by his accusation that it took her a moment to catch her bearings, but when she did, she unleashed.

“Screw you!” she shouted. She knew the outburst, yelled across 50 yards would catch the attention of his agents as well as any other body in the vicinity, but she was beyond caring. The fraying of her emotions began with her admission to Grace and had been constantly unravelling ever since, and he was going to treat her like one of his underlings?

“Screw you!” she said again, jabbing a finger in his direction, the verbal ball beginning to roll. “Screw you and your orders! Screw you and your ‘bravery’!” The word dripped with derision, and just when the audience didn’t think she had any more to give, she landed her own bomb. Though she knew he came by his characteristics naturally, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but put the blame on an easy target. “And you know what, just for good goddamn measure, screw your beloved Marine Corps!” The sweeper who was closest to her lifted his headphone to make sure he had heard her right.

“Hey!” Gibbs threw back.

Expelling the hard warning drew the eyes of two nearby sweepers, one of whom quietly said to Gibbs, “Until we know what we’re dealing with, you might wanna keep your voice down, Agent.”

Before the EDU agent could cover his ear again, Jack caught his attention, albeit in a softer tone.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s your name?”

The young man slowly curled his headphones around his neck. “Andy. Andy Shoal. Ma’am.”

“Andy, I’m Jack.” She plastered a smile on her face. “And if you get him out of this, I will mail you a Christmas card every year with a very, very nice token of my thanks. But if you don’t clear a path to him for me in the next 5 minutes, I will pull off your testicles, do you understand?” 

She said it so sweetly that it took him a moment to decipher the words. When he did, his face blanched. “Yes. Yes, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

Four and a half minutes passed before he spoke again.

“Considering the risks involved, this is as close as I can get you, Ma’am.” He indicated to the cleared path that got her within 20 feet. “As you can see, my partners are working to get even closer. Once we isolate the device and determine a plan, we’ll be able to do more.” He awaited her judgment with quiet concern, and subconsciously turned his groin away from any imminent threat.

“Listen to Andy ramble,” one of his partners whispered to the other before getting back to business.

“Thank you,” she said, genuine appreciation threaded through her voice.

Rather than answering- and perhaps testing his luck- he simply nodded and continued his work.

“You threaten to rip his balls off?” Gibbs asked.

She wouldn’t give him the benefit of knowing how accurate he was. “Something like that.”

He chuckled. “Exactly like that. So, what are ya doin’ here, Jack? Was there somethin’ you forgot to yell at me?”

She wondered how he could ask such a loaded question so nonchalantly, while everything about her was turmoil. 

“No. Just thought I’d watch you get blown up up close.”

Looking away, he said, “Why do I get the feelin’ you think I did this on purpose?”

“Because Fate has a way of finding the Stupid and the Brave.”

His eyebrow rose. “You callin’ me ‘stupid’?”

“Interesting you go to that word first.”

“You really shouldn’t be here, Jack.” The statement held less command and more feeling than the first time. 

“Where else should I be?”

The question seemed to catch him off-guard. Setting his jaw, he looked right at her. “You need to go,” he said, his voice catching on the last word. “Please.” 

She tried to ignore the word that was barely a whisper. “Or what? You’ll throw me over your shoulder and carry me out?” Allowing herself the tiniest smile, she said, “Not sure your knees could manage it.”

Though he returned her smile, he said, “Probably shouldn’t be talkin’ about my knees right now.”

It was a stark reminder of the situation and how he was at the mercy of the three men who were slowly- so damn slowly- doing their damndest to clear the area. 

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "First year at LeJeune, they took a bunch of us fresh-clipped first years out to Creel's Point at midnight and made us stand in the water."

"They hazed you."

"I believe they called it 'building character'." She nodded, knowing the ritual all too well. "Anyway, we were told the winner would be the guy who could stand the longest without the tide knockin' him over, and every hour we could stand there was one less day we'd hafta clean the head."

She already guessed the winner, but had to know, "So how many days did you get out of scrub duty?"

"By the time mornin' broke, First Sergeant was practically beggin' me to come in before the Sergeant Major found out. Didn't clean the head the entire time I was there."

"Nice," she grinned. "Let me guess- you undid the laces and put rocks in your boots?"

Clearly pleased at her ingenuity, he squinted his eyes in appreciation. "Close. Dug my boots in as deep as they'd go an' filled 'em with water and sand. Half the reason I didn’t move was because the suction wouldn't let me." He chuckled at the memory. "But I figure it messed up my knees pretty bad. So you weren't entirely wrong."

"In what way?"

"'Screw the Marine Corps'. Can’t say I haven't said it once or twice. Just usually not so loud. With so many witnesses."

It was meant to make her laugh, but she shook her head. "I had no right to say that." When he shrugged, she knew there was no point in arguing, so instead said, "I had to do the hanging test. You know, where they make you arm hang until your competitors let go." He nodded. "Eight of us. Stripped down to our skivvies." She lifted a shoulder at his silent disapproval. "Ritualistic humiliation," she said. "Sorry, I mean 'character building'. Everyone who dropped had to run naked to the flagpole at the first note of 'Reveille' and be back before it was finished."

Knowing the wakeup call was less than 60 seconds and anyone outside at its conclusion had to stop and salute the flag, Gibbs remarked, "Hope you had a slow bugle player."

“They were so close,” she said, bringing her thumb and forefinger within an inch of each other. 

“‘They’?”

“I had a little secret.” She leaned closer and somehow made the 20 feet between them seem conspiratorial. “I spent the entire summer rock climbing. I could’ve held onto that bar all day. Right before we started, I told them ‘Take a good look, gentlemen, ‘cause this is all the look you’re getting’.”

His head tilted back to let the laughter out. “That’s my girl.”

Her own smile lost some of its luster. “Am I?” she asked. “Your girl?” 

A small line formed between his brows. Confusion? Dismay? Disappointment? Whatever it was didn’t dissuade her from figuratively barrelling ahead. “I mean, I know this is so clichéd, right? To want or need or expect some kind of confirmation about feelings or, or, emotions. It’s like the danger magnifies everything even if it doesn’t seem important. But this is important. To me. And I need you to know that. And I need to know.” Her hands clenched and unclenched in a vain attempt to keep things in check, but it was failing her. 

“Jack.”

Having unbottled her thoughts and spilled the contents of her heart, she was left vulnerable and uncertain. She could only hear admonishment in his voice.

“I’ve said the wrong thing,” she backtracked. “Don’t say it,” she said.

“I hadn’t planned on it,” he replied. “At least, not here.”

She frowned. “What?”

As if talking about the weather, he slowly dictated his thoughts. “Figured it’d always be over some good whiskey, maybe a good steak. Fireplace.”

“You’ve… you’ve thought about this.”

“Every time you’re over for a whiskey and a steak.”

The casual admission took her breath away. She stumbled to find the right words and came up with, “But I bring the best whiskey. And you wouldn’t stand for anything other than a good steak.” 

His slight shrug poorly deflected the weight of what he was about to say. “Guess I thought it was never good enough. For you.”

There was a starkness in his confession that the therapist in her categorized as a breakthrough, but the woman in her could only see as heartbreaking. Trying to find a middle ground between the two, she said, “How could it not be?” she asked. “You make the best steaks.”

Her words erased the stress lines around his mouth and made his blue eyes go soft. Still, as was his nature, he couldn’t resist a gruff, “We gonna talk in metaphors all day?”

“No. I love you.”

“So,” the EDU agent said, pretending to be oblivious to the conversation, “we’re close enough now to reach the device with a nitro tube. We’ll freeze the spring and get you outta here, Agent Gibbs.”

His gazed didn’t break from Jack’s. “Lookin’ forward to it.”

If time seemed to slow down on her way to the scene, it felt like it froze while they waited for the nitrogen to do the same. Three members of the bomb squad stood coiled but patient while Jack felt like climbing out of her skin. When Tim yelled out a tentative, “Boss?”, Gibbs held up his hand like it was the most casual thing in the world to be standing in the middle of nowhere, on a bomb, with a woman declaring her love from 20 feet away. 

“Now, we’ve done all we can, but-” 

Gibbs nodded. “There are no guarantees. Got it.”

“Okay, we’re ready,” said the agent closest to Gibbs. “Agent Sloane, you might want to go now.”

The young man whose family jewels had been threatened softly warned his teammate, “I wouldn’t advise making that suggestion, Mike.”

The advice and the wince was taken to heart, and Mike moved on to the next matter at hand. “When I give you the signal, you’re going to walk forward, towards Agent Sloane, and keep walking. Regular, not running. Stay within the flags and everything should be just fine. We’ll remote detonate this thing once everyone’s out of blast range. Got it?”

“Walk forward, keep walkin’,” Gibbs said.

“You got it. On my mark.”

When Mike pointed, Gibbs stepped forward while everyone else held their breath. The agent was right- there were no guarantees. It may not have been a leap of faith, but it was damn close. Jack wanted to do nothing more but close her eyes and pray, but she willed them open, never losing contact with Gibbs, never letting her eyes show anything more than safety and home. They drew his blue eyes forward, closer to where they belonged, closer to her. His first step forward was a stumble, his knees having done their job for as long as necessary now collapsing from the release. Both she and Andy were at his side immediately. 

Gibbs waved off the agent by asking, “You sure you want to be that close to this one?”

“Don’t scare the poor guy,” Jack said, looping Gibbs’ arm around her shoulder and hers around his waist. “He’s on my Christmas list now.” To Andy, she assured, “I’ve got him.”

The two made their way down the marked path, slow but determined, while Tim, Ellie and Nick waited with less patience. As soon as the pair were within arms’ reach, Tim and Nick took over and helped Gibbs to the truck where Bishop had dropped the tailgate. Jack turned away, the moment finally catching up with her. 

Gibbs avoided the fuss given to him by his agents by asking, “Update on the suspect?”

Tim blinked in confusion. “Boss?”

“The suspect. The reason we came out here in the first place?”

“I, uh-”

Nick jumped in. “We were just about to follow up on something Kasie found, right guys?”

Ellie and Tim looked at each other. He mouthed the word ‘Kasie?’ but she quickly said, “Right! Yeah, we were just about to do that thing. That Kasie found.”

Gibbs’ gaze went from Tim to Ellie to Nick. “Today?”

The agents began scrambling to the truck, though Tim stayed back to help Gibbs stand. Closing the tailgate, he asked, “You gonna be okay, Boss?”

If anyone deserved to ask the question, it was McGee, the one person who had been through the worst with him. The one person who knew what it was like to wonder if that day, that moment would be the last.

“Yeah, I’m good, Tim.”

The use of his first name gave him comfort. “Okay.” He looked over at Jack who was still turned away. “How about her?”

Gibbs took a moment to take her all in, to take in what it all meant and what it could mean. “Yeah.”

Unsure of what he meant, but absolutely sure the conversation was over, Tim nodded. “Okay. Take the day off. We’ll let you know if we find anything.”

Normally, he would’ve bristled at the order, but he was too wired, too tired to care. “Yeah,” he said again, stepping back while Tim got into the truck and Torres pulled away.

The scene was filled with a smattering of EDU agents, the three who were closest to the bomb making provisions to detonate it, and a handful of others still ground sweeping the surrounding area, but he only saw her. Hobbling up behind her, he winced when she jumped at his touch. Turning in his arms, she quickly wiped her cheeks and pasted on a smile.

“Just the adrenaline wearing off,” she told him.

“I know.”

Her eyes were glittering bronze and her hair was silk as he brushed it back from her face. He realized he had so many things to say and so few tools to say it with. 

“McGee told me to take the day off.” He purposely injected an edge of indignation to his voice that he knew would pull a smile from her. “Figured we’d go home. I’ll make some steaks.” 

He meant to say it like it wasn’t anything, but his eyes gave everything away. She was right- a confession of love in a time of crisis was clichéd and easy to excuse away once the danger was over. He would never accuse her of playing games, but knew all too well what a life-threatening situation did to people. So he held the figurative door open and waited for her to step through or step way.

He probably, really, should’ve expected it when she crashed through it.

Her lips were on his in an instant, demanding and insistent, throwing caution and consequence to the wind. His knees protested the sudden collision, and he told them to shut the hell up. The adrenaline was dying down for him too, and with it went the calmness that had settled over him while he stood with his life literally at his feet. Now, a reminder, an offer of a different kind of life was in his arms and he suddenly couldn’t get enough of it. Of her. He willed his brain to hold him up because every other thought went to her. Every command went to places that could touch her- his mouth on hers, his hands in her hair, his hips pressed tightly into her body as she weaved her arms around his waist and jerked him closer. If he hoped to hold on to any control, he was wrong. He was losing the battle, losing his breath, losing his mind. Mercifully, she pulled back.

“Wow. Okay,” she breathed, a fluttering laugh escaping lips he only wanted to claim again. He avoided the lure of her mouth by kissing behind her ear. Shyly, she looked around, the moment becoming reality, the images around her coming back into sharp focus. “I’m not making out with you at a crime scene.”

The comment was completely unexpected and 100 percent her. He chuckled into her ear. 

“Okay.”

“Good,” she replied, collecting herself enough to give him a chaste kiss. With another deep breath, she said, “There’s something I have to tell you.” He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “I brought my car.”

“The matchbox?”

“I’ll put the seat as far back as it’ll go.” They both envisioned how he’d have to fold himself into her car. He scowled and grunted but she caught the brightness in his eyes and grinned. Kissing him again, she promised, “I’ll bring good whiskey.” 

…..

-end


End file.
